The Long Road
by fakeasain56
Summary: 5 times Bruce saved someone's life everyone thought was going to die, and the 1 time those poor people returned the favor.


_1. The Old Woman At the Corner_

The haggard old crone was as predictable as the sun rising. Every day, when the old church tower tolled the ninth hour of the morning, she would appear at the corner edge, with a small bucket full of melted sugar. It was the favorite pastime of children and adults both to gather to watch the lips blow glistening, glittering sugar balls, completely hollow.

Old hands, steady despite the age, poured out intricate patterns, never the same, always different in some of the oddest, most curious ways, battles and tales of old gaining life in her hands.

One day, she didn't appear. The children cried, clutching the pennies they had saved so desperately, turning to parents with desperate eyes. Parents swallowed hard, struck by fear.

They couldn't help her, this old woman. She was sick- not one of the adults could risk getting sick, otherwise their entire family would go hungry. So adults pulled away sobbing children, hearts heavy. A few of the women of richer families dared to go into the small hut bearing bowls of soup, handkerchiefs tied around their faces to ward off disease.

The old woman smiled weakly from her straw mattress, and sipped at the soup, thanking them. Coughs followed those women home, where they made sure not to interact too closely with their children, scared of passing it on.

Then, the white man came riding into town on a small burro, it's ears laid back, stomping angrily, but still carrying its burden. Children clung to mothers' legs, whispering in surprise, eyes wide.

The man looked around the small town, speaking haltingly in their own language, "I… am a doctor. If someone needs help, I can-"

One child, bravest of them all, approached the man cautiously, holding forth the small coin he would buy his sweets with. "The old lady mister. She makes the sweets. Please help."

The mother of the child winced- Doctors were expensive. He surely would not accept such a tiny, pitiful amount of money in response to the child's plea.

The Doctor knelt, using one large hand to curl the child's hand around the Penny. "No payment. I work for free. All I ask is for food, if you can provide."

The child's eyes lit up like a spark, turning to his mother- the mother nodded, coming to kneel next to her son. "If you can help Doctor, we'd be grateful. She makes the children sweets."

The Doctor smiled in response, shy and quiet, "I will try best, but-" He shrugged, "Not all can be saved."

She nodded, eyes meeting his. "It will be good enough."

The child led him to the hut where the old lady slept, and hung around the doorway, as the white man ducked into the hut, kneeling next to the old lady. He grabbed her wrist, put his ear close to her mouth, as if listening. The child watched with big eyes, as the man gently patted the woman, smiling. "You will live."

Surely not- the pall of death had been on her for far too long. No man could possibly save her now.

The children of the village, in-between their school and chores, gained a new past time. Watch the white man as he fed strange substances to the old woman of the corner, and took care of her.

Soon the pallor of death lifted from her, and she began to be able to speak again. The children rushed home to tell their parents as they came in from the fields.

The parents came to congratulate the Doctor, but they were too late. The Doctor had left on his burro, but the old woman of the corner was once again spinning her globes of sugar.

And in this small town that had no name, there was nobody to comment on the strangeness of her designs as she drew out the man that had saved her life.

* * *

_2. The Woman With No Arm_

She was a beautiful woman, truly. Long hair cascaded down her back, shimmering in the light. Slanted, willow brown eyes caught and held every man she laid her eyes on. She was also the _only_unmarried woman of the village.

It was no surprise that her father was plied with offers from all over, desperate men who wished to have grandchildren bidding for her hand. The father merely smiled, and insisted that she would choose for herself- truly an odd man that should have leaped upon the dowry offers.

It was only pure luck that the kwai lo had rode into town that day. The old man had heard that he claimed to be a doctor, and would look over any who needed it in exchange for a place to stay the night-

The villagers had laughed the kwai lo out of town, and according to all reports he was sleeping in an abandoned shed on the outskirts of down.

That was where the three suitors ran, hard and fast, for once not arguing. The woman they vied over was dying- possibly dead from where a fight had broken out, and when she had attempted to break it up, they had hit her arm with a rusty piece of metal.

He was the only doctor for miles. They could only hope that he would know how to help the woman with her arm swelling purple.

They found him where he was said, curled up on wood shavings, napping lightly, as he started awake as they burst in, their panicked tones babbling over each other. He didn't need much urging, and took off in the direction of the house.

The week that passed was the most tense the men had ever had- her arm refused to stop swelling, the smell of rotting meat filling the house, even as it attempted to spread to the rest of her body.

The doctor fought it back, desperately trying to save her life- at last he stated to save her life, he would have to cut off her arm.

Two suitors dropped their requests for her hand. One gently took her by the hand, and in a flash of decorum he should not of done without her permission, pressed his lips against her forehead tenderly.

The doctor cut off her arm, and to the surprise of everyone in the village, she recovered in under a week. She married the one who had stayed with her, and the Doctor slipped out of the village in the middle of the night as mysteriously as he had come.

* * *

_3. The Child Who Coughed._

His parents didn't know what was wrong with him. There was a doctor only five towns over, but he was far too expensive. The poor internet they got in the tiny library offered no clues as to the condition of their child.

There were so many things it could be, and all of those things required too expensive medicine or required a doctor to write out the prescription, making it impossible for a poor family like theirs to gain.

So they covered their one and only child with a thick blanket, and attempted to feed him chicken soup. Then they prayed.

The gringo came drifting into town, claiming to be a doctor. Those too poor to afford the real doctor went to him, out of some misguided hope that he could help. They knew better- they had been gouged many times by those sorts of doctors, and were not willing to attempt another, even if their child was dying slowly, inch by inch.

Then they heard that he only asked for food back. Then they heard how _good _he was, how the old store keeper with the freshest melons no longer had as many pains, how the little girl with no hearing was smiling and laughing, and he was teaching her parents how to communicate with her.

They heard- and hoped.

So cautiously, one night they approached him, murmuring about their son. Their son who could not stop coughing. The doctor nodded, and promised to look at him- he spent three hours in the room, before slipping back out, and beckoned them to the small store. There he bought out a bottle of pills, and told them that it would help if the child drank them with water.

They questioned, trying to make certain- He smiled and said that the child was suffering from a buildup in his lungs, that the medicine would help, so long as the child drank down at least one pill per day for the next six months.

He vanished out of town the next day, but the parents decided to try. For six months they forced down one pill a day down their child's throat, even when the child seemed perfectly well and happy. They remembered their tears of joy when he walked for the first time, when he ran without coughing, when the other mothers would allow their child to play with the other children.

So on the bad days they sat on their child, forcing the pill down his throat, and exactly six months later, with a bottle carefully tucked away just in case, they gave him a small pound cake they had saved the money for, for six months.

The cough never came back. And in the dark nights as cold came creeping in, the three of them got down on their knees to pray that the kind doctor who had found their son would find his way to his own home.

* * *

_4. The Man Who Could Not Work._

He was the second wealthiest man in town- he was the man with two milk-cows, and provided all the milk and cheese to the entire village.

He was also known as the sickest man in the village. Ever since he was young, growing up drinking the cow milk, he had been sickly, complaining about a yucky feeling that hung over him. His parents had tried everything, taking him to the doctors they could afford, but the doctors had shrugged and said he merely had a weak constitution.

His wife was a good woman, if a little sharp with her tongue, constantly trying to get him up and working, even though they had their own private outhouse due to the stink. She plied him with milk, trying to build him up.

There were a few memorable days when she plied him with too much milk, and he threw it back up. She always wept on those days, bewailing the day she had married him. It was a good thing he was good in bed, or she'd of run off on him by now.

When the strange man rolled into town with a dirty dog trotting at his heels, nobody had thought much of him. Not until he said he was a doctor. The entire village pointed him in the direction of the sickest man- he provided their milk, which they needed, and he refused to tell anyone who the milk cows should go to if he died.

It was like this, Doctor and Man found themselves sitting around a meal provided by his wife, quietly eating the cheese curds mixed within pieces of tortilla chips, freshly warmed milk sitting at their sides.

He rushed out in the middle of the meal to go throw up.

The Doctor stayed behind, questioning his wife- he was far too sick to think about it, let alone dreg up jealousy. So when he went to bed early, he didn't notice when his wife slipped into bed long past midnight.

He did notice when for breakfast he had plain oats mixed with a little honey and cinnamon, but no milk. He looked to her curiously, but she smiled and gestured. He took one bite- and instead of his throat closing up like it usually did, he smiled as it slid down smoothly. He finished his food, and although he still had a few lingering cramps, they had decreased from yesterday.

Lunch was the same- there was no milk mixed within the food, and instead a clear glass of carefully distilled water was placed next to his elbow. The food helped though- he could feel his strength creeping back into his skin, and his stomach was settling.

Dinner there was not a sign of milk, and the doctor was smiling as he asked about pooping habits- The man answered carefully, but in curiosity. What could pooping possibly tell the doctor?

A week passed like this, and he only got healthier. It was a marked difference- where he had once been pale, he was beginning to tan, able to easily carry his wife's items.

At the end of the week, the Doctor said he should never drink milk, or eat anything with milk in it again, and so long as he did so, he would be healthy. He slipped out that night, before the man and his wife could thank him with the extra money they had managed to save from his ability to work.

* * *

_5. The Man Who Would Not Wake Up_

He was the strongest man in the town. He was the kindest as well- always willing to put down his work and go to fix roofs that were broken. He showed up for church every week, put in his small donation, and did his repair work for free.

The entire village adored him, especially one shy little girl, who smiled at him with luminous eyes. He smiled back shyly, and the entire village cooed over their love, so pure and shy. Older woman cackled as they pushed her towards him, and the men slapped him on the back dispensing advice.

Neither paid attention to the older people, and slowly worked their way closer to each other, delicately as if they were stepping on eggshells. Other girls clucked in disappointment over the loss of their catch, and chased after other boys.

Then, one day, he fell asleep and didn't wake up. No matter what anyone did, his eyes would not open, his body would not respond, and he didn't move. His girl wept as she cared for him, thanking others for their help, but absolutely refusing to move from his side.

Nobody held out much hope for him- others had fallen pray to this sleeping sickness before, and none had managed to wake from it. He would die.

Women were already getting ready their black dresses to wear to the funeral when the Doctor came into town. They had heard about him, from other visiting villages, about the odd white man who worked usually for free, asking only for supplies in return.

The girl instantly lept on the chance, dragging him to where her boyfriend slept, unconscious to the world. His face grew serious, but he was calm. He looked to her, and promised to do his best.

He left, going outside of village limits, into dangerous jungles filled with dangers. He came back bearing plants she had no name for, mixing them together and showing her how to mix it together as well, creating a fine, dry powder that he mixed with the soup she had made, trickling it down his throat.

Three days later, the man had woken up, and the doctor had slipped out.

They held a fast instead of a funeral. They prayed for the Doctor that he would find what he was looking for, that his family would be returned, and that he would find peace.

* * *

_+1 The Village That Saved Him_

It wasn't often that he was indebted to someone. The village elder leaned against the doorway as he watched the doctor work, steady hands carefully administering the drink. The small child smiled bravely as she drank, trembling from the force of her coughs.

But she was _better_. Before she couldn't move- none of the children could. Parents had mourned, certain that their children would die. Some already had.

But the arrival of the doctor had given them hope, hope not misplaced as three children could be seen playing in the dirt, laughing and giggling. They were the older ones, but even the littlest one were beginning to recover now, and the village was indebted to this man.

That was why he was about to do what he was going to do. "Doctor."

The man turned, a curious look crossing his face, "Yes?"

"The family on the edge of the village, a few miles up the road, their son fell and broke his leg, could you please go there?" It was a lie- the boy was perfectly fine. But by the time the man had gotten there it would be too dark to travel the road, and the mother of the household would not allow him, forcing him to stay the night.

Long enough for the soldiers approaching to do their destruction, and leave empty-handed from where they were seeking the Doctor.

He had asked the other villagers, secretly, what they thought of this plan, and the others had agreed. They owed the man a great debt for the lives of their loved ones. Buildings could be replaced- lives could not be, nor the bitter taste of guilt if they let the doctor go before they could repay him.

The Doctor glanced down to the little girl, and she looked up with honest, pleading eyes. "I can."

The girl smiled as she handed back the glass- he insisted on putting the cups in boiling water, but a doctor like him was allowed to have his quirks. So they sent him away, and the entire village silently lined up along the pathway when the men with guns marched in, a large black man leading the way. People not dressed in uniforms trailed behind, including one man with a shield, and another in a suit of glowing armor.

"We're looking for a doctor. I believe you might just know where he is." The black man wasted no extra words.

The village elder did not either. "Does it look like we have a doctor? Ask the shaman up the road."

A gun clicked off safety dangerously as the village men began to gather around, holding their farming implements in their hands, quiet and watchful.

The man in the suit of armor held up his hands. "We're not here to harm him. We had a disagreement, and-"

The village leader allowed one eyebrow to rise- for a single doctor they didn't mean to harm this was rather a lot, wasn't it? So he flat-out lied to the mans face back, "The doctor never came here. Now please leave. Our children are sick."

The black man stepped forward, voice lowering to a low hiss that no one but the two could hear. "You have a nice village. It'd be a shame if a fire went through and burned it to the ground."

The village elder didn't flinch. He had been seen thousands of wars, seen families gunned down in front of his eyes, men taken away for the greater good and tortured. Not this doctor. "It'd be a shame for you as well, as there are many plants in the forest that nobody knows exist that are rather dangerous."

The village elder's eyes didn't reveal his own cards as he smiled. "Not to mention that people can disappear within the forest for days without being found." The children had already been moved into the forest, along with most of the women, only the strongest men staying behind with whatever weapon they had.

Up in a tree, the man with the lone gun of the village took careful aim.

The black man stared at him for a long, long few moments, before nodding. He recognized a stone wall when he hit it. "Pull out."

"What? But Bruce is around here, I know it-"

"Weren't you listening to the man? He's not here. Or if he's here, we're not going to find him. We'll catch him somewhere else."

The village elder smiled and nodded. He doubted it though- he had a few strings he could pull, enough to convey the Doctor out of the country. He had left behind his powder, and all the village elder needed was instruction on how to use it, and the village would help itself.

The army withdrew, the village watching them go. The man in glowing armor muttered and swore the entire way, but the man with the Shield merely nodded respectfully in response.

The village returned to its peaceful state, and they were not bothered by any men with guns. The doctor returned, and was thanked, before being sent off to the other side of the country, in complete secret.

The Doctor never knew what the village had done for him, and the Village guarded its secret. All except the soldiers, were content.

-end-


End file.
